Don’t wear them short socks…

I was in Columbia, Illinois at the first convenience store you encounter when you cross the Mississippi River into Illinois.  I stop there as it is cheaper to buy a soft drink for my round of golf there instead of at the golf course.

As I was standing in line a fellow came up behind me toting a 12 pack of Busch Light and talking on his cell phone a little loud, which is what caused me to notice him, although there was nothing unusual these days in this.

As I stood in line I heard him say, “I don’t wear those short socks.”

“Well,” I thought, “that is a bit of a strange conversation.”

Then he went on, “They don’t hide my ankle holster.”

My new best friend…not.

The rest of the conversation was about preferred grips on pistols.

In Missouri it is a free-for-all on concealed carried, and you do not even need a permit.  Illinois takes a totally different approach.  So either he was a Missouri resident and/or an Illinois scofflaw.

My personal opinion is that this country has a terminal illness when it comes to guns. Hunting is one thing, but I have a hard time imagining why anyone would need a pistol, and especially why they would  need to carry one concealed.

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Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #7,799

yeah I know you did not ask!

You should so be blessed – well cursed at times actually – with a mind such as mine, making all these weird connections between my rumored neurons. Just be thankful that I do not share all of my random thoughts.

Surely I am not the only male to look over at his woman’s side of the bathroom and be totally mystified.

Some of the devices, for all the world, look like they were dreamed up by a Catholic priest during the Spanish Inquisition.  And then there are the lotions and potions… most of which appear to have come directly from the laboratory of a medieval alchemist.

It always seems to me that it is a lot of work being a woman.

Just saying.

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Bottle of Tequila – Revisited

I generally do not recycle articles.  I also do not write a lot of fiction, but once a decade or so a story pops into my mind.  When I do write fiction  it is generally triggered by some story I have heard or something that has happened to me. Then my “imagination” runs wild  extrapolating on of the former. Or sometimes – according to Señora about stories of her – I just make s*** up. Generally, I am stringing all those founts together.

The broken toe from a dropped bottle of tequila actually happened to a friend of my ex when we lived in Oklahoma City.  A friend of Señora recently dropped a bottle of wine on her toe, breaking it, bringing this story back to mind. The rest of the story’s derivation is best left to the war time motto of “Loose lips, sinks ships.”

I enjoyed writing the story 12 years ago.  Hopefully, you will enjoy reading it.

Now to the story…

Bottle of Tequila

He saw me limping down the hallway and asked,”looks like you had a wonderful time, what happened?” When he said that I was instantly back to her bedroom and recalling the events of the previous evening…

We had placed a few pillows behind our backs up against the headboard.  The lights were still low.  The Coltrane CD had started back around.  Man, is he ever timeless. With the warm glow that can only be felt from energy well spent, we were both smoking cigarettes and idly chit chatting about absolutely nothing of consequence.  I noticed that we had both pulled our knees toward our chests.  The result was two well formed tents, side by side in the sheets.  Mine was a good bit taller than hers.  My mind flitted back to childhood days when my parents would take me to the circus.  I wondered which tent was more interesting.  Was it the larger one with the 3 rings of non-stop entertainment, or the smaller one with all the made up freaks and hucksters trying to separate you and your money? Laughing to myself I wondered where the “tunnel of love” was.

It was at that point I slapped myself softly and she looked at me funny.

“Just a weird thought,” I explained.

My vision drifted down to my left arm.  I realized that I had left my Rolex knock-off on.   It surprised me that she had not complained, Continue reading “Bottle of Tequila – Revisited”

Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #2,921

yeah I know you did not ask!

You should so be blessed – well cursed at times actually – with a mind such as mine, making all these weird connections between my rumored neurons. Just be thankful that I do not share all of my random thoughts.

There are folks whose mission in life is to travel, experiencing as many different roller-coasters in the various amusement parks across the nation and for that matter, around the world, as they can.  I found several names for them, but coaster geeks was my favorite.

I bring this up as the other day I was texting back and forth with a friend.  In a wise-ass response to one of her texts I remarked, “Marriage: The Ultimate Roller-Coaster.”

These enthusiasts could save a lot of travel expense and time with a couple gold rings and a bag or two of rice.

Just saying.

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Chopping wood, folding t-shirts…

Recently I experienced my 26,298 rotation of this planet we call home.  This triggered the lever that counts the number of orbits around the star we refer to as The Sun, setting it at 48 (in hexadecimal) total revolutions, beginning the 49th.

All these largish numbers put me in a reflective mood, a pensive frame of mind, going over what has transpired in all those rotations and orbits.  All I could come up with is that it all has been rather pointless.

I then remembered a well known Zen koan:

“The novice says to the master, ‘What does one do before enlightenment?’
‘Chop wood. Carry water,’ replies the master.
The novice asks, ‘What, then, does one do after enlightenment?’
‘Chop wood. Carry water.”

Except in my case, having never chopped wood or carried water in the pioneer sense of the word, or even in the woodchuck sense…if a woodchuck could chuck wood, I say fold t-shirts, wash the dishes.

Enlightenment will, in all likelihood, have to wait until all the counters have been reset to zero, and I might get another shot at it… or not.

In the meantime, I am folding t-shirts and washing dishes.

Om mani padme hum

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National Siblings Day – April 10, 2024

For the sake of truth in advertising, I kept looking for an image of brothers going at each other, fighting tooth and nail.  All I could find were horribly saccharine, the one above being the less  mawkish of the bunch.

My take… the greeting card industry is at it, again.

However, it does have a touching back story.  Read about it here: National Siblings Day

And so it goes.

Hopefully my Spanish sounds better

The other day while speaking with one of my long term Spanish tutors via Skype I made the comment that my Spanish was too poor to have been studying the language for as long as I have.

A few days later he sent me his video.  The comment basically translates as “imagine you have been studying English for 5 years and you ended up speaking like this guy.”

Of course he sounds like every other good old boy I have ever known in Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Mississippi, Texas or Missouri.  One of my self-deprecating jokes is that I speak Spanish with a Southern accent, and it is not from the south of Spain.

Years ago I wrote a blog posting My Chinese Nightmare that was a take on this theme.

And so it goes.

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St. Louis Metropolitan Area- A Mixed Bag

The St. Louis metropolitan area is such a mixed bag. I bring this up due to a recent study that listed two St. Louis suburbs among best places to live in the US.

It placed the St. Louis suburb we live in, Chesterfield, as 19th on their list, and another St. Louis suburb, Brentwood, which is closer to the actual city of St. Louis, as 18th on their list.

Chesterfield is undoubtedly a nice place to live. We have a school system with one of the better reputations in the state, the crime rate is reasonably low, all the conveniences are within easy driving distance. The city authorities are striving for growth, but they are doing so in a fashion that does not impact the quality of life here.  In fact they are doing many projects that Continue reading “St. Louis Metropolitan Area- A Mixed Bag”